Frictionless
by Laraqua
Summary: Steve Rogers must cope with a new set of Hydra machinations that will drag him, Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson into the terrible mire of human experimentation and dangerous levels of hi-tech.


The cinema was always a good way to step back in time. At least, a good cinema was a nice path to the past. Most had changed from movie palaces to rather ordinary but some still had the classic architecture and impressive ambience that hearkened back to the old days. While a lot had changed for the better, some things didn't need to change. Steve took a moment in the queue for tickets to quietly bask in the chitter-chatter cheerfulness of the crowd.

He and Wilson had taken some time out to catch a flick and since Natasha was in town they figured they might as well all go together. Steve had been half-tempted to invite Tony Stark just so he didn't feel like they were avoiding him but Natasha wanted to keep it low-key. Tony's face was just a little too famous and that was saying something considering Steve had his own comic book series from his days as patriot-performer way back in World War II.

The counter girl looked on the verge of recognising him as he bought tickets to the latest action flick - which he hoped wouldn't be full of swearing, too many movies mistook the F-bomb for dialogue. He headed off before she figured it out. This was meant to be a quiet day. He didn't want to disappoint Natasha who was already pretty paranoid about Hydra / ex-S.H.I.E.L.D members tracking them down.

As he stepped around a small crowd of joking friends, he came to an abrupt stop before a woman with bleached blonde hair done in tight curls and red-rimmed eyes wearing the sort of chunky earphones that had been all the rage about a decade or two before he'd been defrosted. She tilted her head a little too far to one side to be normal, then started patting the Walkman in time to the music. The music was turned up so loud he could make out a male voice crooning, "Never known a girl like you before…."

It seemed pretty apt not just due to the body language but because she looked at him like she _knew_ him, which seemed to be the downside to any degree of fame.

"I have toy," she said, pulling a backpack off her shoulders and swinging it around. The backpack was done up in Union Jacks but her accent didn't fit for someone from those countries. Ukrainian, perhaps? She wore a tattered black singlet with some sort of band logo on it over a long-sleeved red-and-white striped shirt and jeans with union jacks sown over the knees.

"No need to give me anything," Steve said, then felt a little stupid. Maybe she intended for him to sign it?

"Steve," said Natasha, moving in beside him the way she usually did when she was about to rescue him from some fan who recognised him from the museum. "There you are. We should get some refreshments."

The fan gave Natasha a look like she disapproved but she didn't have the same kind of disappointment or giggly excitement (I just saw Captain America with a girlfriend!) that most fans expressed. Instead she seemed languid, weary, and rather unimpressed.

The woman's backpack was full of Captain America comic books and candy. It was amazing how many people smuggled sweets into the cinema but he normally didn't need to worry about people carrying his collection of comics with them. They were all reprints, he could tell by the colour style. She pulled out a Captain America doll and thrust it at him.

He tried to wave it away, smiling gently to reduce any sting of rejection. "No, sorry, I have them all."

"You do not have this one," she insisted, shoving it towards him.

Steve went to take it, more automatically than for any other reason, but Natasha grabbed his wrist. "No, don't." He looked at her but she was too busy staring intently at the other woman to make eye contact with him.

He trusted her instincts so he let his hand drop back to his side. "No, sorry, I can't."

A smile split the woman's dry, cracked lips. "You sure?" She pinched the toy's head between thumb and forefinger and dangled it before him. "It is detonator."

His smile slipped. This better be a sick joke. Yet the woman's face was surprisingly neutral despite the smile and the caged look in her eyes. There's no humour there but no sign of real malice either.

She dropped it.

Steve caught it around the abdomen, holding it gingerly.

"What do you want?" asked Natasha.

Wilson must've spotted the altercation because despite he appears behind the woman with an arm load of popcorn and soft drinks which he slowly lowers to the ground. The stranger catches the motion, though, turning her head slightly towards him.

"Maybe you should remove the headphones so we can talk," said Natasha, putting on her best negotiator voice from the sound of it.

The woman doesn't even look at her. Maybe she can't hear her and is relying on lip reading to get herself through the conversation. Steve doesn't know for sure. This whole situation has escalated fast. Why was this woman doing this? Was she some kind of crazy fan hoping to get a connection to him? This better be a hoax.

"You've got my attention," said Steve. "What do you want?"

"A kiss."

Steve felt his muscles relax just slightly. A hoax, then. It had to be.

But Natasha wasn't relaxing and if anyone could get an accurate read of the situation, it was her.

"If I give you a kiss, will you stop?" asked Steve. If she really were crazy there was a chance a kiss could set her (and the bomb) off. It seemed like the kind of crazy fantasy scenario a fan would come up with.

She grinned at him brightly and a glint of malice came into her eyes. _I'm totally addicted to bass_ came over the headphones. People continued to flow around them, entirely unaware. She slowly stuck out her tongue, long and sinuous though not supernaturally so, and he had to suppress a shudder at the sight of Hydra's symbol on a sticker on the edge of her tongue.

Wilson moved into position behind her and gave Steve a brief nod. He was ready when Steve was but Steve wasn't going to give the order. This situation was too delicate. Only Natasha could make that call but Natasha wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't she saying anything?

Maybe it had to be him. Maybe it needed to be Steve talking to her but what could he say?

"Do you like the Captain America comics?" he asked, glancing down at the backpack in her hands.

She nodded once, twice, and then steps toward him and holds out her arms. He allowed her to come in closer to him. Natasha still hadn't spoken, hadn't moved. That was good, right? She wrapped her arms around his neck, swinging the backpack around, but the weight never pressed down on his back and the woman in his arms was looking shocked, then annoyed, then outraged.

"Nope," said Natasha from his back, and he could feel the sudden tug of war. It was brief, quickly ended when Natasha stuck the tip of her boot up into the girl's armpit to get some leverage and push her away.

The woman stumbled back and Wilson grabbed at her, somehow managing not to get a hold though the girl didn't move. Steve glanced back at Natasha and the underside of the backpack, now punctured with a series of thick and heavy duty needles. The tensions on the strap must have activated it, whatever it was.

When he looked back at the woman, she was shrugging and Wilson kept trying to grab her but his hands kept slipping off her shoulders and arms like she was made of slippery ice. She gave him a two finger salute like it was an insult and then she was off and rushing into the crowd. "Kaboom!" she hollered.

Natasha stared at the pack for a moment, seeming to register her dire predicament for a moment. "Wilson, get everyone evacuate. Steve…." She nodded toward the fleeing woman.

"On it," said Steve, breaking into a run.

"Careful, she's real slippery," Wilson called after him.

Steve vaulted over a bench, darted around a canoodling couple, and tried to keep his gaze lock on a woman who stood half a foot shorter than most in the crowd. He spied the memorable shirt combination headed toward the front doors and so leapt up onto a long run of comfortable benches pressed back to back against each other. He carefully / quickly stepped over outflung arms and tilted back heads before reaching the end of the path and vaulting over a pair of kids and landing down behind the woman just as she opened the door and a stray adolescent cat wandered in.

Steve grabbed at her and she dropped to a half-crouch beneath the weight of him but he couldn't get a grip on her, fingers slipping and sliding across her shirts and arms. He tried to wrap his arms around her in a bear hug but she slipped up and over his arms like toothpaste out of a tube with a wriggle and a desperate _"Here kitty!"_

Then she ran past him further into the cinema, eyes darting about the floor. She was looking for her _cat?!_

"Look, miss, we need to talk!" he said, following her back in. Her crazy antics perplexed him but he doubted she'd blow up a building she remained within.

Probably.

A voice came over the speakers, "Everyone needs to quietly evacuate the building. This is not a drill. I repeat: everyone needs to quietly evacuate the building. This is not a drill."

The response was electric. Everyone stood up, staring at the speakers for a moment, some quietly and quickly heading for the doors. Those nearby turned to look at him, having seen him rush over furnishings and figuring him for either a cop or the criminals. Things wouldn't be so calm once those in the theatres came out and joined the press of people and he still had the potential bomber to catch.

There was a flash of blue light and he jumped back onto one of the couches to see the cause. He spotted Natasha heading through a door into another room with a bag punctured by dancing needles with glowing tubes. As he watched, the needles shot from the bag toward him but failing to move more than a half dozen feet they then moved toward the nearest screaming individuals.

The strange woman appeared beside him. "Tagzies." She took the action figure and it slipped from his fingertips frictionlessly. Then she spun its head off and pulled out a little tube. He reached for her but she leapt forward, barely caring where she planted her feet, yet somehow staying upright even though both her sneakers were on the diagonal sides of the couch and should, by rights, have been sliding down to the chair seat.

She snapped the tube between thumb and forefinger then ran forward (he followed, needing to get to Natasha) until she reached the very end whereby she threw the little explosive onto the bag. It hit, stuck (how?) and erupted in a wave of pressure that bowled him over. The lights all sparked and went out.

Now there was panic.

As he got to his feet, he heard the screaming start as people began crawling and pushing their way to the door. He stared into the gloom, trying to make out any injured people but he couldn't spot anyone seriously injured. There was no smell of blood or smoke. Just an ozone tang to the air.

"Goddamn EMP grenade!" said Wilson, somewhere from his left.

"I'm not complaining," said Natasha, from somewhere in front.

Somewhere flicked their lighter on and in the flickering light of that flame Steve could make out the girl crawling up and along the wall awkwardly on her hands and feet toward the window. What was going on here? Some sort of Stark-esque gravity pads? It didn't matter. What mattered was getting up there.

"Shoulda brought my wings," said Wilson, hurrying to his side.

"EMP, remember," said Natasha, coming over as well and gazing up at the wall climber.

"So if electronic tech isn't working right now, how's she doing that?"

"Only one way to find out," said Natasha, heading toward the door with a slight limp. "Let's go meet her on the other side."


End file.
